In my dream there is muted gold and something about shoes fitting.

In my dream I’m touring the graduating student show and there is just one piece that I think is good: two paintings of cartoon crackers. The first has the word STALE painted across it. The second says ME TOO.

In my dream the textures are many and varied.

In my dream the balcony advertises adventure mode and I decided to order from the local Chinese restaurant in resentment.

In my dream the streets are cluttered with furniture. I have the keys to my old brownstone but I won’t use them because other people live there now. I try to remember the two kinds of dog food that were left out.

In my dream I ask “Why is this here?” at the upper end of the plaza. “It’s a year’s worth of programming ” she says in agreement, and launches into a story about how Japan wasn’t for her. I run my sneaker over the slippery metal grate.

In my dream I don’t want to head into the echoing church dressed as I am. In an open casket is J’s dad, and my hoodie is far too casual. I grab the knit cap off my head at least as I look at the six other mourners. J deserves better.

In my dream the flashlight illuminates my face in the woods.

In my dream he asks me if I want a series of things including a Baba Looey. In anticipation of the squished ball of discolored, sticky brown rubber, I explain that while I like the design of a lot of those sixties Hannah Harbera characters, I don’t like many of the toys associated with them.

In my dream we’re a little drunk so we throw radishes around the restaurant and after clambering down the snowy stairs, we compare tips about preserving the patina on our cast-iron pans while we scrub them.

In my dream we talk about how a lobby near midtown could actually work as a class room in a pinch.

In my dream I’m cleaning my apartment as I prepare to leave. The question is do I try to hide the evidence of the murders I’ve done there l, or just accept that they will be found out?